Oh, lest a separating wind assail The jocund stars and all their ways be dearth, And love, undone of its immense avail, Go homeless even on earth, Let us be constant, though we travel far, With every mortal token of our trust, And not forget, piloting any star, How dear a thing is dust! _Yale Review_ _Witter Bynner_ REMEMBRANCE: GREEK FOLK-SONG _Not unto the forest--not unto the forest, O my lover! Why do you lead me to the forest?_ Joy is where the temples are, lines of dancers swinging far, Drums and lyres and viols in the town (_It is dark in the forest_) And the flapping leaves will blind me and the clinging vines will bind me And the thorny rose-boughs tear my saffron gown-- _And I fear the forest._ _Not unto the forest--not unto the forest, O my lover! There was one once who led me to the forest:_ Hand in hand we wandered mute, where was neither lyre nor flute, Little stars were bright against the dusk (_There was wind in the forest_) And the thicket of wild rose breathed across our lips locked close Dizzy perfumings of spikenard and musk.... _I am tired of the forest._ _Not unto the forest--not unto the forest, O my lover! Take me from the silence of the forest!_ I will love you by the light and the beat of drums at night And echoing of laughter in my ears, _But here in the forest_ I am still, remembering a forgotten, useless thing, And my eyelids are locked down for fear of tears-- _There is memory in the forest._ _The Craftsman_ _Margaret Widdemer_ THE TWO FLAMES Behind my mask of life there lies a shrine Wherein two flames are burning. Day and night I tend these leaping treasures that are mine, These lambent loves, the red one and the white, While, priestess-like, I hang at either glow, For each is perfect. And to each I bring The oil of pure emotion, hottest so, And draw new strength from my own offering.